


First Snow

by Miss_Em



Series: Times Merlin Wasn't Warm Enough [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Em/pseuds/Miss_Em
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’re from the north. And you live in a castle now. How can you be taking cold the instant there’s a frost?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Snow

_“h’chhssmph!”_  
  
Arthur dipped his quill in the inkwell. “Bless.”  
  
“Thanks. _h’huhh... tchssshmph!”_  
  
“Bless,” Arthur repeated, more forcefully.  
  
“Thanks. _snff!”_ Merlin gave his nose a quick rub with the back of his hand, then went back to packing Arthur’s summer tunics in the trunk that had just spilled wool and fur and heavy gloves and all manner of other winter gear out on Arthur’s bed. He got a whole three tunics folded before his nose started running again and he had to snuffle, which set off a tickle in his nose that led him straight into a loud (and ridiculously high-pitched) sneeze that scraped his raw throat and set his head ringing as if Arthur had struck his helmet. _And_ left him coughing.  
  
 _“Merlin.”_ Arthur dropped his quill and folded his arms. “Merlin,” he repeated, when Merlin tried, between dry little coughs, to keep working on the packing.  
  
“Um. _sniff!_ Sorry?” Merlin hazarded.  
  
Arthur sighed. “I thought you peasants were supposed to be _hardy._ Put that down, and get yourself a handkerchief. From the _clothes press,”_ he added, after Merlin glanced towards the door and couldn’t suppress a shiver at the thought of tramping all the way down to Gaius’ rooms and back up. “And you’re from the _north._ And you live in a _castle_ now. How can you be taking cold the _instant_ there’s a frost?”  
  
“That’s more than a frost,” Merlin protested, pressing a finger to his nose to keep from sniffling while he went obediently to the wardrobe and fumbled inside for one of Arthur’s linen nose-squares. “And when _sniff_ it snows in _sniffSNIFF_ Ealdor we don’t g-go out in it... _h’chussshhuuh!_ for fun,” he finished. “Just if there are animals _sniffSNIFF_ to tend or...”  
  
“Merlin. _Handkerchief. Use_ it. Training’s not fun,” Arthur added, after Merlin blew his nose.  
  
“For you it is.” Merlin wiped his nose and shivered.  
  
Arthur frowned at him. “Are you _still_ cold from that? That was hours ago, and you’ve been indoors ever since.”  
  
Merlin shrugged and hunched his shoulders, unsuccessfully trying to keep from shivering again.

“Well, sit by the fire, then.”  
  
“But your things...”  
  
“I don’t want them _sniffled_ on. Get yourself warm.”  
  
“Wouldn’t do that,” Merlin murmured, but he gratefully pulled a chair up to the hearth. “Thanks, Arthur.” He stretched out his feet to the blaze, and his hands, until another tickle in his nose made him snatch up the handkerchief again.  
  
“Bless.” Arthur’s chair scraped on the floor as he stood up. “Are your boots still wet?” he asked incredulously.  
  
“Um...” Merlin sniffled and looked at his feet, which were steaming gently as the leather dried. “Just a little? It was really wet out there...”  
  
Arthur came and prodded one of Merlin’s toes with his own. “There’s no finish on that leather; they must be soaked through. No _wonder_ you’re taking cold if your feet have been wet all this time. Go see the cobbler who does the guards’ boots and have him make a pair for you. On the royal account.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
“Well. It doesn’t reflect well on me if I have a servant who’s leaving wet footprints all over the palace. And _snuffling,_ ” Arthur added, when Merlin snuffled.  
  
“...sorry. Just, my nose...” Merlin curled in on himself, feeling his cheeks go hot with embarrassment. No one but his mother - and, sometimes, Will - had ever taken any notice of him when he was ill, and neither of them had ever commented every time he made a sound. It was strange, but not as unpleasant as he felt it should have been. Maybe because Arthur’s minor pratliness had long ceased to bother him.  
  
Arthur went to his desk and brought back his goblet of wine. He drank some, then held it out to Merlin. “Here, you should have some. It will warm you up. Finish it,” he urged, when Merlin hesitated. “I’ve had enough.”  
  
Merlin wiped his nose carefully and took the cup in both hands. The sweet wine felt good on his raw throat. “Thanks. It’s good.”  
  
“Of _course_ it’s good.” Arthur folded his arms and stood watching Merlin drink. “Stay there until your feet dry out,” he ordered gruffly, then turned back to his desk.  
  
“Yes, sire.” Merlin tucked the handkerchief into his belt and held the goblet in both hands as he stretched his feet closer to the coals. It was nice to sit down, especially in one of Arthur’s princely chairs that not only had a back to lean against, but had a fur cover that blocked the draft and reflected the heat of the fire. It was nice to listen to the hiss and snap of the burning logs, and the faint scratching of Arthur’s quill. It was... Merlin sneezed again, too suddenly to get the handkerchief, and let out a little sigh. Well, his nose was still running, and his head ached, and his throat was sore, but he felt better.  
  
“Bless you,” Arthur said, quietly.  
  
“Thanks.” Merlin ducked his head, feeling suddenly shy. Yes, definitely better.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in response to the Merlin Kinkmeme prompt: "more often than not, Merlin has a jacket on even when others don't. He must be cold all of the time! And maybe more suspectible to illness."
> 
> http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/14407.html?thread=12781895#t12781895


End file.
